Anguish and Corruption
by Prattitude
Summary: A Jedi Master seduced by the Dark Side attempts to sway his old Padawan to join him on his quest for power, but when confronted by a pair of ruthless bounty hunters and an ally who doubts his loyalty to the cause, the Sith Lord must decide whether or not he's capable of remaining on his dark path.
1. Part 1

**Part 1**

Garrid stormed out of the durasteel bunker and into the rain, his black cape flowing angrily behind him. His face was twisted with emotion, and he covered his forehead as he came to the sick realization of what he'd just done in anger. It had been necessary, but deep down, he burned with the sense of great loss.

From the landing pad that he stood on, he could still smell the stench of charred flesh. Garrid ran his hand through his wet hair, pulling it back off his forehead, and he sank to his knees as a slow, gentle sob ran through his body.

As the rain continued to pour down on him, he began to focus his mind, clearing his head of any emotion that would betray him, and conquered his sadness, filling the void with rage. With his head clear and his emotions honed, he reached out into the depth of the force, looking for a familiar connection. As quickly as he tapped into it, the voice of his master rang clear in his mind.

"You have completed your task?"

The voice in his head was like sandpaper grating against gravel. Knowing full well that Lord Malice could read the thoughts that he made available, Garrid simply conjured images of the young men and women he'd left slumped over chairs, tables and against walls with fresh lightsaber cuts across their bodies. He felt his master's smile from across the galaxy.

"You have done well, my apprentice. Soon you will join me here and - "

Garrid felt the door to the bunker behind him slide open before he heard it. His stomach sank as he heard the footsteps of the young Jedi, and before he could refocus his anger, a surge of bitter sadness coursed through him. His master's disapproval washed over him like a hot wave, striking fear into his heart.

"It appears your work isn't done," Lord Malice snarled. "Finish your task and report to me immediately."

"Yes, my lord," Garrid said aloud. It was the first thing he'd said in hours, and his voice cracked with effort.

There was a snap and a hiss as a man in short beige robes ignited his ice blue weapon. "What have you done?" The young man screamed, but held his ground as Garrid reached for his own lightsaber.

"Vengeance is not the Jedi way, young one," the Sith Lord whispered just loud enough for the boy to hear. He was easily a foot and a half taller than the Jedi, and Garrid could feel his opponent's fear as his own saber sprang to life, bathing the ground around him in a deep red glow. The thin man seemed to shrink dramatically as Garrid advanced.

"I don't think that matters anymore," the Jedi responded, his own voice wavering.

"You're right," Garrid replied as he continued towards the lone survivor. "Soon you'll be dead, just like the others."

"Master… you were one of us. How could you?"

Garrid grit his teeth and took pause for a moment, cringing under the weight of his words. It was true, and another short burst of emotion tread upon his thinly veiled layer of anger. But he only paused for a moment, thinking of his master's painful disapproval, and began his advance once more.

The young Jedi dropped into a defensive crouch as the towering dark lord approached, but as Garrid drew nearer, the boy began to shake with fear, subconsciously letting his own lightsaber drop to the ground, where the metal clattered against the wet duracrete. Garrid stopped again and snarled.

"Pick it up," he said.

But the boy dropped to his knees, mirroring Garrid's own meditation just moments before. The Sith could feel pulses of calm radiating through the force as the boy attempted to ease his terror.

"Pick. It. Up." He repeated himself.

But the boy could not hear him. He was gone, one with the force. Garrid stepped up to the young man, looming over him like a skyscraper.

"I studied the Sith," the boy said after a moment of silence.

Garrid leaned away from the boy, and tightened his brows in confusion as the Jedi stood up, bolstered in confidence. A radiant speck in the force, nearly engulfed by his own dark grasp.

"Do you know what the great Sith Lords have always had?" He continued, drawing a curious expression from the dark lord before him.

"I thought not," he continued. "Bane, Plagueis, Maul, Palpatine… they all had dedication. Not only to their masters before them, but to the idea that the Dark Side was the path to power, and that power would give them control. They defended that ideal, stood by it until their dying breath."

Garrid tightened his grip on his lightsaber. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you don't have it in you." The boy finally opened his eyes. "Because you let me live. I watched you slaughter my... my friends. But you didn't have the strength to kill your own Padawan."

The two stood in terse silence for what felt like a century, until the boy approached Garrid, and gently placed a hand on the man's sword arm.

"But you left me alive. Why?"

Garrid stared at his feet, unsure of himself and his decisions. He could feel the darkness swallowing him whole, or maybe not? There was a tug; a bright light at the end of a tunnel in the form of his padawan's hand on his arm. Calm, yet infuriating, he chose to ignore it.

Feeling the sudden shift in the force, and with a frightened look in his eyes, Garrid's Padawan called his lightsaber to his hand, and activated it just in time to stop a heavy-handed strike that would have cleaved him from head to toe.

"You trembled like a coward!" Garrid's voiced ripped free from his throat. There was no longer any indecision in his voice. "You kept your back turned... let them die. You're pathetic!"

With aggravated precision, Garrid pushed in against his apprentice, swinging hard to knock the Jed'is sword out to one side, and diving in to impale him, but the boy was quick, and his sword arm well honed.

The two danced around the landing pad for some time, Garrid on the assault and his Padawan back pedaling, attempting to avoid his fallen master's onslaught. Sparks of red, and yellow flew everywhere as their blades clashed and bounced against each other's, until Garrid managed to score a glancing strike against the young man's leg.

The Padawan crumpled like a paper bag and his saber skidded across the duracrete landing pad as his master once again stood over him, his cape tearing at the wind. He could feel Garrid's sword point just an inch from his neck, but he propped himself up as much as he could.

"You couldn't kill me then, master," he shouted as much in defiance as in hope. "You won't kill me now!"

The Sith Lord didn't move for a moment, but with casual precision, summoned the boy's saber into his own, outstretched hand. Garrid stared at the weapon, lost in his own swirl of rage and resentment, grappling with what he should do next.

"You said you'd studied the Sith, Kass'dan," he said after a long while. He opened up the saber's control panel with the force, snapping the side plating off like it was a stale cracker. The Jedi's crystal ripped out of the internal housing chamber, and floated freely in front of the Sith lord, spinning slowly, suspended in midair.

"Tell me… do you know of our rituals?"

Realizing what was about to happen, the boy extended his hand, violently, and the crystal shifted slightly towards it, until Garrid removed the boy's appendage at the elbow with his lightsaber. Kass'dan screamed and violently clutched at his stump of an arm as the other half of it bounced to the floor, smelling of burnt tar.

"The Sith have made a tradition of taking crystals, and coercing them to the dark side, much like we've done with Jedi in the past." As Garrid spoke and his Padawan writhed on the ground looking up at his master with tears in his eyes, the suspended crystal began to whine and hiss. Slowly, all the color drained from it, and eventually the crystal began to splinter against the exertion of the dark lord's will. Kass'dan's mouth fell open in surprise as the crystal began to take on a violent red gleam.

"Don't!" The boy shouted, fighting against the pain of his cauterized arm. "This isn't you… this isn't natural!"

Garrid kept his focus on the crystal, warping it through his sheer indomitable might until suddenly, the crystal faltered and relented, allowing itself to fully cross over to the dark side. Garrid's eyes burned with a white-hot intensity as he replaced the crystal where it belonged, in the weapon he had taken from his Padawan; a mockery of what it once was.

The Sith Lord activated the boy's weapon, and the saber crackled to life, flickering with slight instability, and screaming with intensity, as if it pained the crystal inside to activate.

"You sick bastard," Kass'dan muttered under his breath as Garrid crossed the two sabers, as if to take the boy's head. "Kill me then. You've taken everything from us… from me."

"Not everything," Garrid said, a ring of triumph in his voice. Garrid deactivated the boy's lightsaber, and set it, gingerly at Kass'dan's feet.

"Take it," he said.

Kass'dan stared blankly at the weapon, and then at his old master. He slowly shook his head and said, "it's not mine anymore."

"It could be. I could teach you to tap into your fullest potential. You could be more than this… broken, beaten version of you."

The Jedi shoved his old lightsaber away with his foot, and closed his eyes. "I've made my decision," he lamented.

Garrid sighed, and extended an arm towards his Padawan. "We will see," he said. Kass'dan shot backwards, like he'd been struck across the face with a bat, and collapsed onto his back as Garrid shut his mind off with the force. In the Jedi's weakened state, it was quite simple to do; like flicking off a light switch.

The Sith lord belted his Padawan's lightsaber, and dialed a few buttons on his wrist communicator. In moments, his small 'L' shaped starship came into view, and landed itself. The boarding ramp slid open with a hiss, and a long, slender droid with thick metal arms and a circular head came walking quickly down to meet it's master.

"Take the boy and put him in my quarters," Garrid said without looking at the droid. The bot nodded, and swept the Jedi up over his shoulder. The pair walked quickly up the boarding ramp and vanished into the ship. Within moments, it took to the skies, yellow engines burning away as the ship lurched violently into hyperspace.


	2. Part 2

From the moment the Boar's Tusk dropped out of hyperspace and came into view of Kiros V, Tevassk could tell that something had gone horribly wrong. The Trandoshan ran a clawed hand over the controls of his freighter, mulling over his course of action. The hunt had been long, and he'd lost a pretty penny on the last bit of information that had pointed him to the Jedi's bunker, and he wasn't about to go rushing in guns blazing. He'd take it slow; methodical like always.

Tevassk checked the charge on his modified T-21 blaster cannon, a remnant of the long forgotten era of the last Galactic Empire; an easier time for bounty hunters. Once he was reassured of his primary weapon's charge, he turned back to his controls and punched a small black button.

"LS-82," he muttered into the ship's communications system, "run a scan of the planet's surface…"

Typical of Trandoshan speech patterns, Tevassk let his words hiss at the end. There was a silence over the comms for a moment, and then a thin, metallic voice responded.

"Identified, 3,547 lifeforms in the immediate area," Tevassk's droid responded.

"And how many are sentient, Eighty-Two?"

Eighty-Two made the closest noise to a snort that a droid could make and said, "I was getting to that, before I was so rudely -"

"The number, _droid_ ," Tevassk responded, a bit of a growl in his voice. There was once again silence for a moment, and Tevassk rolled his eyes.

"There are currently zero humanoid life forms in the vicinity of the coordinates you provided me with," Eighty-Two responded.

"What?" Tevassk slammed his hand on the dash as he stood straight up in a moment of rage. "What do you mean there are no… scan again!"

"Sir, while you were shouting, I scanned twice more. The numbers are coming up the same. Just a few hundred other assorted mammals."

Tevassk grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. "There _has_ to be a mistake," he said. "Set the ship down just outside of the landing pad. I want to have a look before we go inside."

"Affirmative. Setting her down." Eighty-Two's voice crackled with masked amusement when he responded over the intercom. Tevassk was beyond the point of caring about an insolent assassin droid at that point; droids could be reprogrammed. What troubled the Trandoshan was the fact that a small colony of Jedi were supposed to be amassed in the bunker that the _Tusk_ was rapidly approaching.

The reptilian bounty hunter adjusted the weapons clipped to his navy-blue flight-suit, and slowly made his way towards the boarding ramp, lost in scenarios that he needed to be prepared for. By the time he reached the exit ramp, the _Boar's Tusk_ had already touched down, and Eighty-Two was waiting there for him.

The droid was a few inches taller than the incredibly tall Trandoshan, and had a long, rectangular head that sloped back into a point. Rested on his right arm was a portable rotary cannon painted with a shark's face on one side, matching the irritatingly obnoxious markings on the droid's chest plating.

"Remind me to scrub that off," Tevassk remarked as the two waited for the ramp to fully extend. Eighty-Two's circular green eyes flashed a few times.

"If you're referring to my shark, I'd suggest you rethink your decision," he remarked. "You may have purchased me, but I have a right to keep myself in a manner with which –"

"Kark off, Eighty-Two," Tevassk replied with a throaty gurgle that the droid could only assume was a chuckle. "Something's not right here. Hopefully the target is still nearby."

"Not likely," Eighty-Two replied while the pair clanked and thumped down the boarding ramp and into the rain. "My scanners are always accurate."

"Even still," Tevassk growled as the pair raised their weapons and started towards the bunker. "Something happened and I want to know what."

The pair progressed slowly, checking their sight lines often, until they reached the landing pad. Tevassk hustled forward, savoring the feeling of cool rain on his scales. It wasn't often that his line of work took him to comfortable locations, but Kiros V's cool, windy climate reminded him of his time on Kashyyk, and his many hunts there. His time rounding up Wookiees seemed so long ago, and for a moment, he nearly forgot the task at hand; so lost that he almost didn't register Eighty-Two's alarmed beep.

The bounty hunter whipped his blaster at the droid, and dropped to a crouch, fully expecting to rain blasterfire at whatever monster or attacker he saw. When he saw his assassin droid bend over and pick up a human arm, severed at the elbow, Tevassk wasn't sure whether to thank his scales, or be agitated with his companion.

"If you could save your alarms for actual danger from now on, I would appreciate it," he said as he stood up and let his blaster hang down on its sling. "What is that?"

"I believe," the droid said, "that this arm belonged to a Jedi Knight."

"The one we're looking for?"

Eighty-Two shook his head. "Negative. But nevertheless, we should search the perimeter, just in case of any survivors."

Normally, Tevassk would have admonished his droid for asserting command, but the sight of a Jedi's arm gave him a flicker of delight.

"Why don't you do that then," he said while heading towards the bunker. "I'm gonna have a peek inside."

Tevassk was inside the metal bunker doors before Eighty-Two could even raise a fuss. Within moments, it was clear to the reptilian hunter what had happened. Signs of lightsaber combat were everywhere in the form of young Jedi, marred with burn wounds dragged across various parts of their bodies. Some even sported lack of limb, or worse. The sickly smell of decay was sweet to the Trandoshan, but he was less than pleased.

Keeping his blaster raised just in case, the bounty hunter waded through the sea of corpses, until he found the control room. It was a small area lined with a single black desk that hugged all four walls, and swivel chairs that hugged the desk. Many monitor screens lined every wall to the point where Tevassk had to wonder how his prey managed to get inside unnoticed to slaughter the Jedi. But then it dawned on him.

"Cocky, Kath hound," he muttered as he sat down at the nearest chair and started carefully punching in different coded loglines and messages he'd picked up over the years. Finally, a code worked and he was inside the security systems of the outdated computers.

It was arduous work navigating the system with his claws, but it wasn't long before he discovered the holo-recording from the previous day. Tevassk selected the button labeled "playback" and watched in awe as Darth Anguish cut a swathe through each and every Jedi Knight that stood to oppose him. His eyes widened as he witnessed the precise ferocity of his prey, darting between combatants like they were training droids programmed at the lowest setting.

"He's better than I thought," Tevassk lamented with a hand on his chin. Suddenly, something caught his eye. The Trandoshan leaned in closer as he watched Darth Anguish pause and glare at a student who was lying down on his bunk, seemingly unmoved by all the commotion. The Sith Lord approached the boy, and then retreated to the entrance of the boy's quarters. If Trandoshan's had eyebrows, Tevassk's would have arched as he watched Anguish pace back and forth, as if debating whether or not to kill the young Jedi.

"This one has a moral quandary with killing in cold blood," Eighty-Two said in his metallic voice, causing Tevassk to draw his sidearm and level it at the droid's face. Eighty-Two wasn't much of an expressionist, but the droid did lean away from the Trandoshan, until he holstered his weapon.

"Jumpy?" The Droid asked.

Tevassk grunted and motioned towards the camera with his head as he holstered his sidearm. "Have you ever seen a Sith do anything like this?"

The droid shook his head and said, "no, but It isn't uncommon for humanoids to find murdering those they were once close to an arduous task."

The pair of hunters turned their attention to one of the smaller monitors displaying the outside of the bunker as Anguish strode out into the rain. They watched the young Jedi follow Anguish through the bunker doors. They watched the Sith Lord sever The Jedi's arm and coerce his lightsaber crystal to the dark side, before ultimately loading the boy onto his own ship with the help of a brawny droid.

"Despicable," Eighty-two muttered, crossing his arms.

"We're not much better," Tevassk replied as he pushed away from the desk and started back towards the communal area of the Jedi's secret base.

"You have the common decency to at least keep my programming up to date. That droid looks like it hasn't seen any service since the Clone Wars."

Tevassk shook his head as he and Eighty-Two walked to the barracks. "We should check the boy's room. We might find something to help us find our target."

Upon entering the dormitory of the young Jedi from the holovid, Tevassk and Eighty-Two were overwhelmed with the feeling that no one had ever lived there before. The small bedroom was disturbingly clean, to the point where Tevassk had trouble picking up the scent of the human. The two began to tear the room apart, ripping off bedsheets, checking dresser drawers and searching for secret compartments. They spent nearly an hour before Tevassk had the mind to shift the Jedi's lockbox away from his bed.

A single data-chip sat where the chest had been. Without hesitation, Tevassk picked it up, and inserted it into his gauntlet. Immediately, the Trandoshan was rewarded with a small hologram of the Jedi, from when he still had both arms.

"My name is Kass'dan Ido, and I am a Jedi Padawan training under the supervision of Master Garrid Huul," the boy said. Tevassk quickly shut the hologram off and stormed out of the room.

"It looked like there was more to that message," Eighty-Two said as he followed Tevassk out of the dorm and towards the bunker entrance.

"The name is really all we need to establish who the Sith Lord is," Tevassk said. "If we can match his face in the Republic archives with a scan of the Sith's face on the holo-vid, we should be able to find our target in good time."

"Fair enough," Eighty-Two interjected. "I'll run the name through the Republic databank once we're back on the _Tusk_."

"That's the plan," said Tevassk.

The two hurried out into the rain and made their way back to their ship, nestled just out of sight. Once onboard, Tevassk and Eighty-Two climbed up into the cockpit, and as the Trandoshan lifted the ship off the ground and started towards the skies, Eighty-Two made a chirping noise.

"It's a match, Tevassk," he said as the _Boar's Tusk_ broke away from the planet's atmosphere. Almost immediately, cross reference images of Garrid Huul, Jedi Master and founder of the Academy on Kiros V flooded the windscreen of Tevassk's ship. The hunter pulled a cable out from the dash and plugged it into a rear interface on his gauntlet. With a clawed finger, he navigated the control screen on his arm until he found the stolen image of the Sith Lord, standing in the rain.

"Magnify," he hissed, and the image transferred from his wrist terminal to the Ship's screen. With the images side by side, there was no mistaking it.

"Bingo," Tevassk said with a smile as the facial recognition software read a one hundred percent match.

"Now what," Tevassk's droid asked, pulling the Trandoshan out of his momentary victory.

The hunter narrowed his yellow eyes and said, "now we wait for this Garrid Huul, to make a mistake."


	3. PArt 3

Part 3

Coruscant was still considered the center of the galaxy to most people, but to Garrid, it was a place of great pain; a place he dreaded visiting. As the fallen Jedi Master made his way from the floating landing pad that his ship rested upon, into the reception area of Lord Malice's office, he couldn't help but wonder what his dark master actually knew. Climbing the spiraling ramp that led past smaller chambers up to the Dark Lord's office was enough to inspire fear, and coupled with the weight of what he'd done, or failed to do, was enough to set his nerves on fire.

Garrid was well aware of Malice's power to invade the minds of those who were incapable of protecting themselves with the force, but he'd never truly understood the ability, nor did he know of its limitations. It was altogether possible that his master knew about his former Padawan and his plans for the boy, even though he wasn't completely sure what those plans were just yet. He mused that Lord Malice would probably figure out his scheme before Garrid could truly hatch it. That musing became a pit of dread in his stomach as the twin doors of his Master's office slid away, revealing a high-backed chair and a hooded man seated in it.

He strode with a feigned confidence past the ornate statues of Sith Lords that came before them, past the murals depicting the great battles waged between Jedi and Sith, until he was a mere few feet away from his master's desk. Garrid dropped to one knee so that his hair hung in front of his face, cloaking himself in a veil of terror and anticipation.

Lord Malice stood and pulled back his hood. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a well maintained silvery beard. Despite his age, he looked to be the picture of health. His skin was taut, and his jawline was strong but his eyes gave away his age and truest nature. The skin around his eyes sagged and was darker than the rest of his face. The Sith Lord narrowed them, and smiled coyly as he walked around to meet his apprentice.

"It is done then?" He asked as he approached Garrid, who remained kneeling. The young Sith Lord nodded, and Malice turned around to stare at one of the large paintings in his rectangular office.

"I could penetrate your thoughts if I wished. I could discover the truth," Malice said, and Garrid's face and neck tightened as the familiar wave of pain crept up the back of his neck and into his skull as his master took hold of him.

"Can I trust that you have not failed me?"

"Yes, my lord. The Jedi are dead," Garrid's voice wavered from the sudden relief he was granted as the Dark Lord relinquished his grip. Darth Malice turned about once more to face him.

"Stand then," he hissed as he walked back to his desk to sit. "We have matters to discuss."

Garrid did as he was told and approached the great oval desk as his master sat down. Malice pressed a small button on the arm of his chair as he sat, and a hidden door off to his right whirred away, revealing a solitary cloaked figure. Garrid's eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing, and then narrowed with anger.

"You've replaced me?" The fallen Jedi's hand absently drifted to the lightsaber at his side as the hooded and cloaked figure strode calmly into the room. The Dark Lord chuckled disarmingly, and Garrid let his hand drift away from his weapon as his master spoke.

"You misunderstand, Lord Anguish," he began. "I have no intentions of replacing you as of now. However, if we are to rip the Jedi out by the root instead of the stem, we must have additional support."

Garrid let Malice's stinging reminder that he was expendable roll off his skin as the woman at his master's side pulled her hood back, revealing her ghostly white face. Framed by a black and silver veil that wrapped around her cheeks and chin, the woman's face was beautiful and harsh. Above her brow rested three red diamond tattoos, and the skin around her eyes were outlined with blood red makeup or a tattoo. Garrid wasn't entirely sure.

"This is Darth Viscera," Malice continued as the slender woman bowed her head, a sign of inferiority which pleased Garrid greatly. "She is our newest asset. I discovered her long ago and have been training her… privately."

Garrid merely nodded, but kept his gaze fixed upon the woman. Something about her seemed unnatural and unnerving, more so than the general aura that the dark side projected.

"What am I to do with her?" Garrid asked bluntly, drawing a brief sneer from the woman that he was sure Malice had noted. Regardless, his master remained unmoved.

"Nothing yet," Malice said, drawing Garrid's attention back to him. "She has her own task to complete."

Viscera raised her head and for a brief moment, the two Sith apprentice's eyes met. Garrid noted her burning gaze, and prepared to respond to any sort of assault she had planned, but no such attack came, and as he watched her leave, Garrid couldn't shake the feeling that he'd have to kill her one day. He let his eyes follow her until the doors to his master's office slid shut.

"Do you like her?" Malice asked, still smiling.

Garrid grit his teeth. "She seems powerful. Sure of herself."

Malice stood once again and came around to meet his apprentice face to face. "She has not yet achieved a level of power that you possess, Lord Anguish. But she is useful to us."

The Sith Lord walked calmly to one of the longer narrow tapestries that adorned the wall. The painting depicted a lone man in black armor with a red lightsaber, fending off a large group of Jedi Knights. Malice eyed the painting for a moment and then gestured for Garrid to join him at his side. The Sith Lord obliged.

"Do you know why I keep these paintings in my office, Darth Anguish?" Malice asked in a low whisper. When Garrid didn't respond, the Dark Lord continued.

"I like to think that those who came before us did so for one reason, and one reason only. To show us the incorrect path. The Sith were once a vast and sprawling Empire, comprised of Dark Lords who squabbled amongst themselves for power. The chance to rise in position or maintain the positions they already held gave them strength. Strength that I fear our order lost somewhere along the way."

Malice turned to face his apprentice, and Garrid found it hard not to shrink under his master's gaze.

"The ancient Sith enacted the rule of two. They feared that the power of the Dark Side would be lessened… stretched too thin if harnessed by too many at one time, and thus limited the Sith that followed, to one master…" Malice placed his hand on Garrid's shoulder, "and one apprentice."

"And... you don't agree?" Garrid asked.

"Precisely," Malice muttered, turning back to the tapestry. "One Sith alone is enough to stand against an entire array of Jedi. Were we to expand our order, recruit those strong enough to rise to their fullest potential, we could breed a new lineage of Sith Lords powerful enough to rule the entire galaxy, or at least serve as fodder in our armies.

"Which is why I've trained Lord Viscera," Malice continued drawing a smile from Garrid. "I've sent her to locate others who could become assets, as she will be to our order one way or another."

"Very good, my lord," Anguish said. "And what would you have me do?"

Malice looked at his apprentice out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and then returned his gaze to the portrait. "You have a history with the Jedi, a history which has been useful to me. You are my most powerful apprentice… but your past has clouded your judgement."

Garrid felt his stomach sink as his mind raced to the conclusion that Malice was aware of his betrayal. The dark side swelled around his master and for a moment, Garrid debated fighting back, taking the reins into his own hands. That was in fact why he joined the Sith in the first place; the promise of power, to retrieve what he'd lost.

"Master," he stammered. "I…"

"Train him," Malice said. "I can sense his anger, and your attachment. Break his will, corrupt his spirit and turn him to the Dark Side, or kill him."

Garrid simply nodded.

"I demand sacrifice from my students. You've given up much to train under me," Malice paused, consumed by his own thoughts. "Perhaps, not as much as you could. Don't take my decision to let this incident go, Lord Anguish. Remind me of your loyalty."

"I will not fail you again, my lord," Anguish replied, hanging his head in fear and self-loathing. "I was weak. I will not let myself become weak again."

"Good. Your life depends on it."

Malice returned to his desk, and sat down, dismissing his student with a wave of his hand. Garrid bowed, and left his master's chambers. As he strode through the dimly lit grey corridors of his master's spire, he berated himself mentally for his failure. As a Jedi, he'd allowed himself compassion, which had led to hesitation and ultimately, loss; loss which he had promised as a newly anointed Sith Lord that he would not allow himself to go through again. Garrid contemplated returning to his ship and merely killing his former Padawan, but it was too easy. He knew his master would be watching his progress. He'd have to turn the boy into an asset and prove his worth as more than just a warrior. He could be a teacher again. He'd have to be.

Garrid was so consumed by his hatred and anger, that he nearly bumped into Darth Viscera at the bottom of the spire. The woman stood before him, blocking the doorway with her hands cradled just below her waist and her head dipped slightly towards him. With her hood up, it was difficult for Garrid to make out more than just her burning yellow eyes, but he didn't care much to take her in. She was his rival.

"Why have you not left," he asked, finding strength and resolve in his hatred. "Darth Malice would not be pleased to find you loitering here."

The woman did not move at all, and her voice misted out of her mouth like hot steam. "Lord Malice does not question my resolve, Darth Anguish. I have given him a part of me to show my gratitude."

Garrid was at a loss for words yet again. The man sneered, letting his anger show in the face of such calm composure.

"What have you given to the Dark Lord?" Viscera's question caught Garrid off guard and left him speechless, long enough for the woman to remove her hood and unravel her veil. With a slender hand, she gestured to the top of her bald head. Two mounds of burnt flesh that had scarred over where the head tails of a Twi'lek had once hung rested upon her skull.

"I have given a part of myself over to him, to show my devotion. Yet you struggle to carry out the simplest of tasks," she said calmly. "Soon I will stand by his side instead of you, _Jedi_."

Despite the turmoil bubbling inside him, Garrid managed a smile as the Dark Lady set her veil back in place. "You'd be there now if you possessed anything of value to him," he said as he stepped closer to her. "He took me on due to my potential. Malice _wanted_ to train me. I didn't feel the need to coax him."

The two kept their eyes locked, their faces mere inches away from one another, and though Garrid dwarfed her by at least a foot, he had to admire Viscera for not backing down. As he pushed past her to head back out to his shuttle, he reveled in the sudden explosion of anger in the force that he felt rippling out from her.

With his confidence renewed in his ability to inspire anger and terror, Anguish continued on his way. The Sith Lord kept his stride, not bothering to look back at his inferior, his vigor and faith in the Dark Side renewed once more. He would prove his worth to Lord Malice because it was his destiny to become more powerful than he already was. Anguish resolved not to allow this block in his path to power stop him. Anything Viscera had to offer his master, he would supply tenfold.


	4. Part 4

Part 4

Everything hurt. Kass'dan couldn't remember ever being in so much pain, and as he struggled to open his eyes, he remembered why. The young man sat straight up, reaching for an arm that was no longer there. Instead, the cold touch of metal greeted his fingertips accompanied by the burning pain of an intense headache. Kass'dan let his head drop into the comfort of his rock solid pillow. At least he wasn't bound to the bed.

After a moment of coming to terms with his situation, survival instinct kicked in. As slowly as he could, Kass'dan sat up, fighting through the pounding headache he was suffering, and the unexplainable urge to scratch an arm that no longer itched. The young Jedi reached up with his good hand and rubbed his face, which had become stubbly.

"How long was I out," he muttered as he surveyed the room. He was in some sort of living quarters. Next to his bed was a small night stand that was chrome plated, much like the floors, and on the far side of the room opposite the bed, there was a clothing rack. His Jedi attire hung neatly on it.

Kass'dan looked down at his right arm and found that it had been replaced with a metal one. He flexed his hand, and to his surprise, the robotic hand responded. His motions were clunky, and he had trouble articulating, but after a moment he seemed to gain some control over it. The boy sighed and pushed himself up off the bed until he was standing in the center of the room.

Sitting on the night stand next to a tray of food sat his lightsaber, or at least what had once been his lightsaber. He wasn't sure what to make of it anymore. The weapon felt foreign as he picked it up with his human arm, like he was holding a piece of alien tech that he'd never been exposed to before. Still, a weapon was a weapon and the young Jedi carried it over to the clothing rack and clipped it to his belt while he dressed.

Shortly after, Kass'dan found himself staggering down the interior hallway of a strange shuttle. The ship felt so familiar yet completely alien, much like the weapon that Garrid had corrupted. Using his robotic hand to prop himself up against the wall when his headache proved to be too much, the young man stumbled towards what he hoped was an escape pod, or the cockpit.

What he found was the latter. The cockpit of Garrid's ship was large enough to seat two men comfortably. Kass'dan plopped himself down in the pilot's chair and began fiddling with the dials and controls until the vessel began to rumble.

"Alright," he muttered as he gripped the steering wheel. "Time to get out of here."

Suddenly, he felt the refreshingly cool muzzle of a blaster press against the back of his head. He cursed himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. Master Khel had always warned him that he was too focused on the future, and never on the moment at hand. How he wished he could speak with his old friends at the academy and seek their wisdom. But they were dead, and Kass'dan was sure he would soon be dead as well.

"If you're going to shoot me, just do it," he said as he let go of the wheel. A clawed metal hand grabbed onto his lightsaber, and pulled it off the Jedi's belt. Kass'dan felt the muzzle pull away from his head, and was rewarded with the return of his headache. He winced as he turned around to face his captor.

"Lord Anguish asked that I keep you in your cell," the bulky droid responded. Kass'dan smiled as he regarded the obviously out of date droid. Parts of his arms and legs had rusted through his paint job, and his yellow eyes were dull, like the bulbs needed a charge.

"Lord Anguish?" Garrid asked. "What a name… I guess you lose all sense of what sounds decent when you turn to the dark side."

The droid cocked his head to one side. "Excuse me, but my servos don't allow me to process sarcasm very well. If you would return to your quarters, the master will be back shortly."

Kass'dan was sure that one quick force push would send the droid's parts sprawling in every direction, but between the headache and the metal arm, he wasn't sure if he could muster up the energy. He stood slowly, keeping his hands where the droid could see them and started back down the hallway, droid in tow.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" The Droid asked.

"I haven't eaten yet," said Kass'dan.

The droid made a strange beeping noise as the two rounded the corner and opened the doorway to the Jedi's quarters. Seated on the bed was Darth Anguish.

Without thinking, Kass'dan reached for his saber, but realized too late that his old master had the weapon in hand. The droid pushed Kass'dan into the room with the barrel of his blaster and shut the door behind the Jedi, leaving the former friends alone to speak. There was a tense silence for some time as Kass'dan stared at the Sith Lord who seemed content to roll the lightsaber over in his hands a few times.

"I always admired your dedication to utilitarianism in your design, Kas," Anguish said with a genuine smile that Kass'dan almost believed.

"Don't call me that," he said through clenched teeth.

Anguish stood up, flipped the saber in his hand, and extended the weapon to his former Padawan. "Take it," he said.

Kass'dan did so without hesitation, and activated the blade in a defensive posture in front of him. Anguish chuckled under his breath.

"Strike me down then," he said. "What are you waiting for? I killed your friends, your fellow students… your family."

The Jedi didn't move, just let the sound of the crackling red blade fill the room. The weapon surged in his hands, an unfamiliar feeling that distracted him. Anguish looked at the lightsaber at the same time he did.

"It doesn't feel the same, does it? I remember when I coerced my own crystal to the dark side. It didn't fight as hard."

"Pull it out then," Kass'dan grunted. "Let's be done with this."

Anguish did as he was asked, but instead of igniting the weapon, he tossed his lightsaber on the bed behind him.

"I'm unarmed, Jedi," the Sith said with his arms open. "Take your revenge."

Kass'dan's instincts screamed at him, begged him to plunge his lightsaber into his old master's chest.

"You can end this now," said Anguish. "It would be so easy."

Kass'dan shut off his weapon and said, "yeah… it would, which is why I can't do it. Even though you deserve it."

Anguish nodded and said, "it's not so easy to denounce your Jedi teachings, but I'm sure eventually you will see why the Sith are superior."

The Sith Lord sat back down on the bed and called his lightsaber back into his hand. He clipped the weapon back onto his belt and sat, staring at his old apprentice.

"What are you going to do with me," Kass'dan asked.

Kass'dan tensed up as his old Master stared him down. Just being in Garrid's presence had his skin crawling.

"Tell me," the Sith Lord began. "After I destroyed the Jedi back on Kiros V, you made mention that you'd studied the ancient Sith…"

Kass'dan shook his head and said, "I only wanted to make sense of why they did what they did. They separated themselves from what made them human beings."

"And it gave them strength," Garrid said as he grasped his old Padawan's throat with the force, easily breaking the Jedi's natural force resiliency and raising him into the air like a rag doll. The Sith lord stood as Kass'dan grasped at his throat and gurgled for lack of air.

"Compassion stems from feeling another person's anguish. It evolves into the inability to seize opportunities for fear of hurting someone… even those who we know nothing, or care nothing about. Compassion is weakness."

Kass'dan's face was nearly blue before Garrid released him and he fell to the floor. The young Jedi sputtered and wretched at his old master's feet.

"Kass'dan," Anguish said as he grinned and squatted beside his nearly unconscious old friend. "You were once my brother, and I long for our old friendship, but I am just as happy to kill you if you get in my way or impede my rise to power. I can show you abilities that you couldn't even imagine. Power, unfettered by any chains that would hold you back. The Dark Side is the only path." Anguish extended a gloved hand, offering to help his old Padawan up.

Kass'dan sputtered, and raised his head to meet his master's stare with his own bloodshot eyes. "It's the _easy_ path," he said.

Anguish's grin turned from a confident, sadistic smile into a disappointed and angry snarl as he flexed his outstretched hand and unleashed an arcing wave of lightning from his fingertips into the young man lying at his feet. Caught in the volley of electricity, Kass'dan's entire body lurched violently from the pain and as he opened his mouth to scream, he could only gasp from shortness of breath. Garrid ended the electrocution as quickly as he'd began, leaving his old apprentice on the cusp of death, smoking and smelling like burned refuse.

"Why don't you take some time to yourself… think about your choices," Anguish said as he wandered towards the chamber door. "Sooner or later, you'll hate me enough to give in to your anger. I will make you Sith if it's the last thing I do."

As Garrid walked past his smoking Padawan, he paused and looked the poor boy over. Kass'dan's face was marred with burns and laceration lines, and his clothes once pressed and clean, were now mostly burned away. The Sith Lord smiled as he pressed his hand against the control panel, and the door slid open.

"No please," he said. "Don't get up."

As the door shut, Kass'dan could only watch his old master walk away, powerless to do anything about his situation. His blood boiled, and before the sweet relief of sleep overtook him, he felt the sickly strength of the dark side pulling him away from the light.


	5. Part 5

Part 5

The worst thing about hyperspace was there was absolutely nothing to do but sit around on one's backside, and wait. Tevassk hated waiting. It went against his very nature as a Trandoshan; he was trained to act, and sitting around with a hunk of metal manning the controls of his freighter wasn't cutting it.

The scaly lizard-man sighed and slapped his knees with his hands as he stood up, which caused Eighty-Two to turn his head and regard him with a quizzical look.

"Something wrong?" The Droid buzzed sarcastically. The two had been travelling together for many years, and it still annoyed Tevassk that his partner couldn't pick up on his not so subtle hints of irritation.

Tevassk grunted and said, "I just hoped we'd get a hit by now."

"Things like this take time… even for me," Eighty-Two said as he resumed manning the controls in the cockpit. Tevassk rolled his yellow eyes and started fiddling with his navy flight suit. It was during these long flights that he realized, he was still growing, which was fairly common for a Trandoshan of his age. Even still, growing meant his scaly hide would eventually tear through parts of his suit, which meant he'd have to purchase a new one, which annoyed the Sith spit out of him.

"Kark," the hunter spat as he got up out of his seat. "I can't take this anymore… we need to land somewhere. Let me stretch my legs."

"The nearest system seems to be Coruscant," Eighty-Two said with a hint of trepidation clawing at his vocal resonators. "Maybe we should try another system…"

Tevassk put his hand Eighty-Two's head and patted him twice. The Droid pulled away, and angrily stared the Trandoshan down.

"After what happened last time," the Assassin droid started to say, but was cut off by the nasal laughter of his scaly partner. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand what's so humorous about almost getting me vaporized by a bunch of Black Sun thugs, and then _leaving me_ to fight them off while you whisked away with one of the Twi'lek girls!"

Tevassk took a second to compose himself as his droid defiantly whirled around in his chair, and aggressively poked at the dashboard's many buttons.

"That was a long time ago, Eighty-Two," Tevassk said, stifling a chuckle. "I was just a whelp back then. I'll make sure you don't get nabbed by anybody."

The Trandoshan turned away and started off into the belly of his ship as Eighty-Two started punching in the numerical sequence to make the jump for hyperspace, when a notification on the transparisteel HUD made a loud beep. Tevassk turned around and scampered into the cockpit as Eighty-Two opened a security feed, showing Darth Anguish walking out of a tall circular tower, and onto a landing platform.

"Finally! Where was this taken?" Tevassk asked as he leaned in and used two clawed fingers to zoom in on the picture of Garrid's face.

"Coruscant… which is the absolute last place I want to be heading to," Eighty-Two replied as he pulled the lever and shot their ship into the bowels of hyperspace. Blue and white streaks of energy surrounded the pair's ship as they darted through the tunnels of lightspeed.

"It's our lucky day," Tevassk said as he leaned back in his chair. "Hopefully the son of a Kath Hound's still there when we arrive."

"The way he slaughtered those Jedi," the droid responded. "I don't think I share that sentiment…"

"We've taken down worse before," Tevassk said. "Like that Rancor on Felucia. All we have to do is set a trap. Plus, he's already on Coruscant, which'll make delivery fast and easy."

"That's one way of looking at the situation. Nevertheless, the Sith is powerful and something tells me he has allies on Coruscant."

"So do we, Eighty-Two. Maybe it's time we get in contact with them…"

The two stared off into the endless tunnel of light, one lost in thought and the other, calculating the odds of survival. After a few moments of running the numbers, Eighty-Two sighed a metallic sigh.

"They aren't high," he groaned, derailing Tevassk's train of thought.

"What?" The Trandoshan said. Eighty-Two turned his angular head towards Tevassk.

"The odds of surviving a meeting with this 'Dark Lord'… they aren't high."

Tevassk spun once in his chair and put his scaly arms behind his head. "You process too much. I've got a contact on Coruscant that could potentially set us up with some high-tech equipment. This is going to be easy. I promise."

"Who's the contact?" The droid asked.

"You'll remember him," Tevasssk said. "Thin little Corellian. Used to work for Black Sun?"

Eighty-Two sat silently for a moment, and then turned back to stare blankly out the cockpit and said, "statistically speaking, I cannot be sure that any form of omnipotent deity exists… but if there is a god out there, it must sorely despise my programming."

"He's not that bad," Tevassk said with a grunt. "You've just got a salty spark-plug because he abducted you."

"Do you _hear_ yourself when you speak? Or is it a Trandoshan sentiment to completely disregard the criminal past of people, simply because they may be of _use_ to you?"

Tevassk smiled and said, "It's a Trandoshan thing."

"I give up," the droid said, throwing his arms into the air and getting out of his seat. "We should be arriving in three hours. I trust you can pull us out of hyperspace and land the ship?"

Tevassk spun in his chair to watch his droid exit the cockpit and start walking away. "Where are you gonna be?"

"If we're going to meet Aster Joren, I'm going to need an oil bath," the droid said as he disappeared from view. Tevassk rolled his eyes and continued spinning his chair in circles with a toothy grin on his face. It had been years since he'd seen his old pal, Aster and it was _always_ good to see old friends.

Aster Joren's workshop was dark, small, and strewn with all kinds of bits and pieces of mechanical scrap, that it could easily have been mistaken for a junk heap if not for the slender man working in the far-right corner of the poorly lit room. Dressed in a light grey flight suit, stained with grease, and a short brown jacket, Aster Joren hastily ran his hands over various tools on his low-slung gun belt, switching from plasma torch to hydrospanner in the span of a few seconds, endlessly toiling away at the small but formidable looking blaster on his work bench. He was so caught up in his work, that he seemingly didn't notice the tall Trandoshan hunched over in his doorway, followed by an intimidating looking assassin droid, but that was how he wanted it to seem.

"You're lucky I saw you both coming in on the security cam," Aster said without looking up from his work as the two-bounty hunter entered his domain. "I disabled the trip mines, just for you."

"Aw, you do care," Tevassk replied as he walked over to his friend's table, leaving Eighty-Two to hang back by the door. "What are you working on?"

"Old school Mandalorian weapon," Aster replied as he picked up the blaster pistol, and aimed it at Eighty-Two. The Droid hoisted his rotary cannon, letting the barrels whirl into action, ready to fire. Aster flipped the gun in his hand with a smirk, and handed it to Tevassk, who waived Eighty-Two off.

"Still a little jumpy, Eighty-Two?" Aster asked.

"People tend to jump when they have a blaster pointed at them," the droid replied.

"Last I checked… you're not _people_ ," Aster said, which made Tevassk chuckle. Aster turned back to the Trandoshan. "It's a Westar 35. I stole it from an old Death Watch collector on Ord Mantell. He's got close to fifty, so I'm sure he won't miss it."

"It's a little small," Tevassk said as he held the weapon up as if to fire it.

"It packs a punch, now more than ever," Aster replied as he took the gun back from Tevassk and set in on his bench. The tinkerer grabbed a rag off the table, started to clean his hands off and sat down.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected pop in?"

Tevassk leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "We're hunting someone dangerous," he said. "You tend to… _come into_ a lot of weapons modifications. I was hoping you could help us out."

Aster scrunched his face up and looked up at the ceiling. "I can probably get you guys some upgrades. You still using that old Sandtrooper cannon I modified for you?"

Tevassk nodded, pulled the T-21 off of his back and handed it to the Corellian. Aster took it up and turned it over in his hands a few times.

"I can add something to this," he said slowly and looked over at Eighty-Two. "I doubt I can do a lot with that Rotary Cannon, but I could probably work up something even better."

Eighty-Two nodded and said, "I would like that."

"What's this going to cost us, Aster?" Tevassk said.

"Easy," Aster replied as he removed his workman's goggles, revealing his short messy blonde hair and brown eyes. "I want your droid."

Eighty-Two beeped anxiously, but Tevassk waved him down. "Not gonna happen Aster. We've talked about th – "

Aster smacked his knee as he started to laugh. "You should see the look on your face," he sputtered out as Eighty-Two noticeably relaxed. "No… I wouldn't expect you to surrender him after last time… Tell you what, you can owe me."

"Also, not gonna happen," Tevassk replied. "I know what it means to _owe_ a Black Sun member."

"I'm not Black Sun anymore," Aster said. "But I respect that. Tell you what. I have something that I need _taken care of_." Aster finished his sentence, punctuating it with air quotes.

Tevassk nodded after a second and said, "alright, who's the target?"

"More like _what's_ the target… the job's going to involve extracting a lot of people in a very short amount of time."

Tevassk looked at Eighty-Two, who stared blankly at the Trandoshan. "What do you think?" Tevassk asked.

"I'd rather just pay him and be done with it," the droid responded.

"You couldn't afford my mods, Eighty-Two," Aster joked. "Tell you what. You guys help me out with this mission and I'll throw in something extra, free of charge."

Eighty-Two's eyes seemed to brighten a bit at the sound of that, but Tevassk remained unmoved, much to the roguish man's chagrin.

"This must be important to you if you're willing to throw in _anything_ for free," the Trandoshan said, uncrossing his arms and propping himself up against the table he was leaning on. "I don't like to get involved in family affairs, Aster… I have good relations with your father. I wouldn't want to burn that bridge."

Aster sneered and said, "he wouldn't even know it was you. I've got a small group of guys hired. We break in, blast the security droids and offer free passage to any of his _workers_."

The pair of hunters stood and leaned in silence for a moment, causing Aster to visually tense his body, like a boxer before the fight. His charm seemed to melt off as he took on a more aggressive, passionate tone.

"You wouldn't be hesitating if you saw the way he treated them," Aster leered, jabbing his hydrospanner into the air to bring the point home. "He works them all day and barely feeds them. They're _slaves_ Tevassk. Please… I need your help."

Tevassk closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Alright Aster, you win. But we get our weapons modified before the raid, and you give us ample time to take down our target as well. Deal?"

Aster pursed his lips, but Tevassk knew that he'd backed his friend into a corner. Now that he'd shown his true reason for wanting their help, Aster was vulnerable, which gave Tevassk all the power in their exchange.

"Deal," Aster said. "I'll get started on your mods tonight after I round up some schematics and spare parts. Why don't you two make yourselves at home and I'll call for you when they're ready?"

Eighty-Two was out the door before Aster could even finish his sentence. Tevassk grunted and said, "sorry about him."

"Is he ever going to forgive me for trying to reprogram him?"

Tevassk laughed and started to follow his companion out the door. "Just let us know when our weapons are ready," he said as he slinked out into the stairwell, letting the durasteel door close behind him.


	6. Part 6

Part 6

Darth Viscera smiled as she waded through her enemies like a graceful dancer, twirling and twisting her body dramatically to avoid and deflect blaster bolts, while simultaneously cutting down her prey. She was a huntress, an assassin, and this was where she felt right at home.

As she leapt into the air and brought her long-handled lightsaber down on a green helmeted mercenary, Viscera activated the second blade on her weapon, impaling the second warrior behind her. With a jolt of speed gained from the force, Viscera sprinted towards the third soldier, easily removing his hand and then his head as he tried to rattle off a few shots with his rifle. All three-soldier's body's hit the ground simultaneously, and Viscera's smile turned into a pouting sneer as she realized her fight had ended. She deactivated her double-bladed lightsaber and strode over to the edge of the balcony.

Coruscant was a huge planet and to her the city seemed to stretch on forever. It had been her home for ten years. She'd studied the ways of the Sith for half of her lifetime and in that time, she'd been only a hair's breadth away from her enemy. The Jedi temple stood resolute; a mockery of what it had been rebuilt upon. The destruction of the Jedi order some hundred, maybe thousand years ago had been forgotten by the Republic. It sickened her to her very core.

"Soon," she whispered as she clenched her white hand into a fist. "Soon I will test my mettle against a _true_ opponent."

Darth Viscera turned to face the pale woman, standing off to the side and waved her over to stand beside her on the ornate balcony. She came striding out with feigned confidence. She was taller than Darth Viscera by a foot at least and more powerfully built with long curls of dark brown hair cascading over each shoulder. As they stood side by side and looked out at the Jedi temple in the distance, Viscera grabbed the woman's hands, and placed a cobalt crystal into them. She rolled the woman's fingers closed and pushed her forehead to hers.

"You are now Sith, so you must prove your worth to me," Viscera said as her apprentice nodded in recognition. "Project your anger and hatred into this crystal. Make it your own, and you will be my apprentice."

Viscera felt it again; the strength that poured from her apprentice was formidable. Though she was stoic and her face did not show it, she could feel the woman's rage pouring from every pore in her body. She felt the familiar whine of the crystal as it was corrupted, and smiled as her apprentice did not relent as her last one had relented. She was the one. She knew it.

The young woman opened her eyes in shock as the ritual completed. It was done, and when she opened her hands, a ruby colored crystal sat in her palms.

"The Jedi will fall," Viscera continued as the woman marveled at her creation. "From the ashes of their destruction, a new order will rise."

Viscera placed her hand on her apprentice's shoulder and said, "together we will restructure the Sith, and conquer the galaxy."

Viscera's apprentice smiled and said, "I am yours to command, my master."

"Not for long," Viscera replied. "After we destroy our rivals, we will rule as equals." The dark lady pulled back her veil, revealing the scarred mound of flesh that had once been her head tail. "I have given up much to elevate myself to this position. I have plotted for ten years, and soon after the Jedi, Malice and his apprentice will fall. We cannot allow the Sith line to become weak. We must maintain the rule of two."

Viscera stepped back and activated one of her lightsaber's blades, and her apprentice knelt before her, allowing her robes to carpet the balcony floor.

"You will serve me well until we become equals," Viscera commanded. "Until then, you will study at my side, remain quiet in the face of our enemies so that we may exploit their weaknesses. Once your training is complete, we will strike the final blow."

"It will be done my Lady," Viscera's apprentice replied with fervor.

"Rise, and you shall be known as Darth Carnus," Viscera said and her apprentice stood tall and mighty, as if emboldened by her new name.

"What is your bidding, my Lady?" Carnus asked. Viscera deactivated her lightsaber and handed it to her.

"You must construct a weapon to combat our enemies," she said. "Take this. Use it as a template and forge yourself a lightsaber with your crystal. Do not return to me until you have succeeded."

Viscera opened her arms, and for the first time, Carnus truly took in the splendor of the terrace that they stood upon. It was an ornate balcony, and without the litany of corpses strewn about like leaves on the forest floor of Endor, it would have been a truly beautiful building.

"This will be our new home for the time being. Find yourself a quiet place, and get to work." Viscera started to walk into the building and Carnus followed, close on her heels.

"How will I know," Carnus began, but stopped short when her master turned on her with cruelty coating the creases on her beautiful face.

"I did not select you because you are a coward, Darth Carnus," she said. "Trust in the force, and call upon me when you've completed your task. If you are not capable, then you will have been of no use to me." The Dark Lady entered the main tower, leaving Carnus alone on the balcony. The brunette woman stared down at her master's weapon, and then opened her palm to reveal her own crystal. Viscera had described the crystal to her as a battery of sorts, but one that if harnessed correctly, would never run out of energy. After a moment, she closed her cold, grey eyes and focused inwards, thinking only of her master's weapon and allowing herself to open it in her mind's eye. After a moment, it felt as if she'd been struck with knowledge. The tall woman strode confidently into the main building, leaving her doubts and fears behind her along with the corpses of the innocent men her master had slain. She was Sith now, and if she was to survive she had to be strong.

Kass'dan shouted in rage as his lightsaber bit into the wall of Garrid's ship. His old master was faster than he remembered, and a large part of him believed that up until this very moment, Garrid had been holding out on him; withholding advanced training for no reason at all.

It was impossible to strike the Sith Lord, even in the confines of the small spacecraft. Garrid had not even activated his lightsaber yet, and that drove Kass'dan into an even deeper pit of rage. All he wanted was to be free, to be done with his prison and leave it all behind. He'd given up, lost faith in the force and in his own abilities. He knew that Anguish was breaking him.

What sickened Kass'dan was that he could tell his old master was enjoying it.

Every swing of his sword, every bout of rage made Garrid's smile widen, and in a more sinister way. Deep down, he knew he was turning to the dark side, but he'd been a captive for weeks and he no longer cared. The Jedi had been destroyed, or at least the Jedi he knew of were gone. He needed to focus on himself and leave the problems of the galaxy to someone better. If he allowed himself to turn just a little bit, he was sure he could get away, maybe even kill his captor.

But it wasn't working out, and Kass'dan found himself perpetually angry, screaming at ghosts in his confined quarters every day, tortured to a point of weakness by his old master. He was beaten like a dog to keep him incapable of standing and when he could stand, Garrid would push him to his limits, exhausting him.

"You've grown strong, Kass'dan," Darth Anguish said as he finally drew his blade and locked weapons with his old apprentice. "Are you ready to join me?"

Kass'dan screamed and his voice broke as he rained blow after blow down upon Anguish, but the Sith's skill with a weapon had always been great. He'd been taught by the old Trandoshan saber instructor on Kiros V how to fight like none other, and at this point in his training, Kass'dan knew he was no match for him.

"Come on boy," Anguish spat at Kass'dan as he nimbly deflected his weapon. "I taught you better than this!"

Suddenly Anguish set upon him like a hurricane, swiftly breaking Kass'dan's defenses and landing light cuts all over his body until the young Jedi could no longer stand from the agony. The dark lord disarmed him with a flick of his wrist and kicked the young man to the floor where Kass'dan caught himself with his metal arm.

"I can _teach_ you to be better than this," Anguish said as he deactivated his saber and extended his hand. "You have potential to be greater. I see it now – I've always seen it in you. Join me, and one day you will hold the power to do whatever you want, even strike me down.

"You could change the galaxy, make it your own. All you need is a proper teacher. I wasn't one for you, but I can be that for you now."

It was a strange display of kindness from Garrid, one that he had never seen before, as if turning to the dark side had made him softer and more willing to reflect on the past. The young man spat blood out onto the floor, and it caught in his thick beard as he struggled to stand without the help of his master.

As Kass'dan stood, Garrid didn't drop his hand but instead shook it slightly and said, "please, this doesn't have to continue."

Kass'dan's teeth were covered in blood. He looked more like a jackal than a human as he smiled intently, sweat dripping from his wispy long hair and into his eyes. He'd been caged, beaten and burned by electricity for weeks. Not allowed to shave or sleep, or even eat. This man that had once been a friend had come to him day in and day out, screaming for him to kneel, and to show respect and Kass'dan had not relented.

Now however, there was a showing of respect and emotion. No longer was he asked to kneel, only to join in. A partnership, a brotherhood. Something he'd not had since his Master left the order.

Hesitantly, Kass'dan wrapped his hand around the wrist of Darth Anguish. No longer would he let himself be a chained vicious beast, taught only to beg and attack. He would use this opportunity to better himself, and then exact his revenge.

"I knew you would come around," Anguish said with relief in his voice. "I only ask that you show me the respect that I intend to show you while I instruct you."

Kass'dan grunted and said, "if what I've been through in your _care_ is any indication of that _respect_ , then that'll be easy."

"This was a test. A formality. Darth Malice instructed me to bring you to understand the power of the Dark Side, and I believe I have."

Kass'dan nodded and spat blood again. "Where do we go from here?"

"I will show you how to tap into your true potential," Anguish said. "We will spend every day training you to become a weapon, and you will construct for me a new lightsaber. One that truly suits you, and what you will become."

"And then, I'll be able to kill you," Kass'dan added.

"As of now, you see me as your chains," Anguish said as he paced around his new apprentice. "Eventually you will learn that you have other constraints holding you back, and only when you realize that I am a gateway to power will you truly be free of those chains.

"Repeat after me," he continued. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion."

Kass'dan repeated the line as he arched an eyebrow.

"Through passion, I gain strength," Anguish said, his voice rising in tambour. "Through _strength_ I gain _power_ and through power, comes victory. Through victory, my chains will be broken."

The lines were echoed back to the Sith Lord, and when Garrid was pleased, he finished with, "the force shall free me. Memorize this code, for at any moment, one of the Dark Lords may call upon you to recite it to prove your dedication."

"I doubt it'll be necessary," Kass'dan replied.

"Good. Now it's time to choose for you a new name. One that reflects the hardship you had to overcome to get to this point."

"If it's all the same to you," Kass'dan said. "I'd prefer to choose my own name."

Anguish paused his pacing, and Kass'dan could feel the rage fizzing inside his new master. It gave him pleasure to know he'd hit a nerve and he decided to push the envelope, just to see how far he could get.

"Seeing as I'm going to kill you eventually," he goaded, fully anticipating a blade to the gut. He welcomed the thought of death. He was no longer afraid. He'd die now, or he'd die down the line in an attempt on Garrid's life. "And I plan on letting you suffer like you made me suffer, I'll be known as Darth Maim."

A sadistic grin crept across Kass'dan's face as he waited for the fatal strike, but after a moment of tense silence he heard his master whisper, "fitting." The sentiment caught him off guard, and as Anguish came back into his field of vision, he was not met with a cowl of rage but a look of amusement that confused him.

"You understand the concept of becoming a Sith, yet you do not yet fully grasp what it means. Give it time… you will learn," Anguish said. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and in more fitting attire for a Dark Lord, Darth _Maim_."

Maim snarled at the slight, but kept it to himself as he followed his new master down the ship's hallway and into a much larger room. Though there was not much in the room, Kass'dan assumed he was in Anguish's private quarters.

"You've always been a minimalist," Maim said as his master picked up a chest off a small table by the wide bed that stood against the farthest wall from the door. Anguish walked the chest over to Kass'dan and opened it, revealing six lightsabers, each a completely different size and shape than the others.

"This will be your quarters when we travel," Anguish said. "These are the lightsabers that I took from the Jedi Masters and prominent Knights that I've killed… the ones of note at least. A small part of Kass'dan's stomach dropped as he looked over the weapons of Jedi that he'd known and loved, but he steeled himself.

"Kass'dan died here today. Put your lightsaber in the box."

Without hesitation, Maim placed his old weapon in the box, and as Anguish closed the wooden lid, he felt a surge of relief as he let his past go, despite feeling like a part of him had been removed.

"I have taken the liberty of providing you with a crystal to create a new lightsaber," Anguish said as he waved at the workbench next to the bed. "You are to select a crystal and turn it to the Dark Side. Once you have done so, we will begin your training.

"In the meantime," he continued. "I have provided you with clothing more suitable for a Sith Acolyte. You have a private washroom, and I expect you'll clean yourself up."

Darth Maim sneered and walked towards his bathroom as his master left without another word. Inside was a small, brightly lit room with a sink, a toilet and a shower. The Sith apprentice immediately undressed and turned the shower on, letting the cold-water cascade over him. Despite the frigid temperature, it was the first time he'd bathed in weeks and it felt wonderful to do so. The water ran through his thick, matted hair and hung down in front of his face. For the first time, Kass'dan realized just how long it had gotten. As he pulled his hair back, he realized that it hung just past his shoulders.

Astonished, Darth Maim climbed out of the shower and dried off with a fresh towel, which he wrapped around his waist. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he discovered a person he didn't know. He could almost hear the voices of the Jedi in his head, displeased with the ease of which he was converted, but he couldn't allow himself to feel that way if he was to survive.

After a minute, he resigned to keep his beard long and thick, and he tied his hair back in a messy ponytail with hair draping onto his shoulders, covering his ears and the sides of his head. The newly anointed Dark Lord walked to the closet and pulled out a simple dark shirt and pants, and got dressed foregoing the flashier capes and cloaks that he knew his Master favored, and instead adorned himself with a hooded cape that fully concealed his arms and chest when he stood still.

On top of his workbench sat the six Jedi crystals. Maim could feel them from across the room, as if the very crystals themselves were screaming at him through the force, damning his decision. He pushed the notion aside. It was ridiculous.

It didn't take long. He could feel a familiar tug from the crystal on the far right of the desk, and as he approached it, it was as if he and the crystal were drawn to each other. Maim picked it up, and as he attuned to the crystal he realized why it felt so familiar.

"Garrid," he muttered angrily as he focused on the crystal, mirroring what Garrid had done to his own back on Kiros V. The crystal whined like a kettle boiling as he overwhelmed it with his hatred for his old master. It was only a matter of time before the crystal began to bleed red, but his anger was focused and refined now as opposed to the animalistic rage he had known for the past few weeks.

When the ritual ended, Darth Maim closed his fist around the crystal, asserting his command over it. He'd never felt so tainted.


End file.
